Wise Advice
by jamelia116
Summary: A companion piece to "Wisdom of the Ages." Kathryn Janeway visits Boothby, post-"Endgame." She's heard he has a little advice he'd like to share with her.


"Wise Advice"

by jamelia

A companion piece to "Wisdom of the Ages"

She knew where he must be. He always seemed to be out here, tending his plants. Flowers, herbs, trees - all of them were his charges. Perhaps she should say, "primary charges," because "old Boothby" seemed to spend just as much time cultivating the cadets attending Starfleet Academy as he did the herbaceous borders and shrubs in the gardens.

She didn't have to walk the paths for very long. She had a hunch she knew where she'd find him, and there he was, in a patch of beautiful roses. The gardener was carefully deadheading the blooms which were past their prime, but he'd obviously spent time indulging in pleasanter duties earlier. The basket on his arm was filled with a full range of beautifully colored half-blown specimens which he'd clipped well down their stalks, so others could arrange the long stems into a fragrant bouquet.

She was about to call out to him, but, succumbing to impulse, lingered for a moment, taking in the scene. The white-haired man moved considerably more slowly than she remembered from her own Academy days, in deference to his age, but otherwise, he seemed undiminished. Time must have moved far more slowly for him than for her. Perhaps that wasn't surprising. Her habit of assuming responsibility for the lives of her crew, when mixed with guilt over certain decisions and mistakes she would never be able to undo, weighed heavily on her mind.

Deliberately assuming a smile, she called out, "So, how does your garden grow, Mr. Boothby?"

He looked in her direction. His face broke into a welcoming expression, matching her own, as he answered, "Decently, Kathryn Janeway. Very decently, as long as I take care to water my charges and pull out any weeds that are choking them. What about yours?"

"That's a good question. The status of my 'garden' is a bit up in the air right now." She closed the gap between them and embraced the old man. As she buried her face in his shoulder, the unique odor that distinguished the wise gardener of Starfleet Academy wafted around her. Mixed in with the smells of the oil of roses, the soil on his clothing, and the sweat of honest labor, she caught a hint of what could only be described as "old man smell." That was the one thing the Species 8472 creators of the Boothby she'd met in the Delta Quadrant hadn't quite been able to capture.

They walked over to a nearby bench and sat down to enjoy the sun settling over their shoulders. The slightest of breezes lifted her hair from her forehead. It was such a pleasant morning, she couldn't help feeling she'd delayed making this visit for far too long. Now that she was here, she couldn't imagine what she'd been thinking, to deny herself this pleasure.

"How are you doing, Boothby? I had cause to remember you on many occasions out there. Once, I even met your double - I should say, your facsimile. He was as wise - not to mention as irascible - as you sometimes can be."

"Sometimes I have to be! You can't maintain a garden unless you trim away the broken branches and dig up the plants that go bad on you, you know."

"I can see that. Have you had to do a lot of 'trimming' and 'digging up' lately."

"Always, but we've got a good crop this year, I can tell you that."

"That's very good to hear." She glanced around, taking in the verdant scene. It was good to be sitting here, too. How many times had she thought about coming here and speaking with this wise old friend, when she was too far away to take advantage of his company?

"So, what brings the ultra-famous Captain Kathryn Janeway to my neck of the woods?"

"I just wanted to spend some time with you. So much has happened since the last time I saw you. I wanted to do a little catching up, that's all."

"Anything in particular you wanted to discuss?" He took off his gardening gloves. Apparently he anticipated their conversation might last a while, which warmed her soul.

"Not really. I simply wanted to visit with an old friend."

Boothby studied her with that astute blue-eyed gaze of his that could make a misbehaving first year cadet quiver with apprehension. After an extended pause, he must not have found what he was searching for. "Did Chakotay tell you I wanted to speak with you?"

"Chakotay? Why, no. I haven't spoken to him recently, not since the pardons finally came through."

"I was glad to hear the Maquis all received pardons. After all, they were only defending their homes from the Cardassians - and from their brutal allies. We encountered a few of them here, as a matter of fact. We received just a taste of what they were handing out to the people living in the 'Demilitarized Zone.' The admirals who supported that blasphemy of a treaty were hypocritical fools!"

"I'm not surprised you feel that way. They did a lot of damage," she replied, deliberately ignoring the multiple meanings of her words by pointedly surveying her surroundings. A lot of the trees _were_ much smaller than she remembered. The gardens had not been spared by the Breen when they attacked San Francisco.

"To the people, especially," he answered, sidestepping her attempt to defer the conversation to the visible, rather than the overtly painful losses. Gardens could be replanted. Obviously, these had been. The people lost, though - they were gone forever. She knew more than she wished she did about that kind of loss.

They fell into silence for several minutes, not an uncomfortable one, particularly, but a sad one. So many had lost their lives during the Dominion War. It was strange to think that being lost in the Delta Quadrant was the luckiest thing that could have happened to so many of her people, Maquis and Starfleet alike, even though they'd had no inkling, until it was long over, about what had occurred here while they were gone.

Boothby broke the silence. "So you didn't speak with Chakotay recently?"

"Chakotay sent me a message, saying you wanted to speak with me about something. He didn't provide any details."

"So, he didn't actually have a conversation with you?"

"No," she answered, a little impatiently. Why was he being so persistent about her former first officer, who, according to Starfleet Command scuttlebutt, was about to accept promotion to captain? "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, no reason," he answered, although there was something about the look in his eyes which suggested there was much more he would like to have said.

"I did hear, from various sources, a bit of gossip about Chakotay coming here a few weeks ago. Seeking advice from you, I presume?"

"You know me. I'm always giving out advice. If people come to me and ask me for my opinion, I'm happy to share it with them. It's the best part of my job."

She paused, giving him a chance to elaborate on his answer, but Boothby didn't provide any details. "You're not going to tell me what you talked about with him?"

"I give out opinions, not gossip, Captain Janeway. If you have something to ask me, ask away, but I'm not about to spread out all my secrets to my admiring public. I've kept my own counsel about many things over the years. If I was known for blabbing everything I know to any Tom, Dick or Harry - or to put it in context, to any Tom, Icheb, or Harry - people wouldn't come to me for advice anymore, would they?"

She smiled. "Oh, Icheb, too? Why am I not surprised?"

"He's going to be a good one."

"Oh, I know. He's already a very good one, in my book. There, I've just given you an opinion of my own."

"Feels good, doesn't it?"

"It does," she admitted, laughing. "Anyway, I doubt you wanted me to come here to talk about young Mr. Icheb, worthy as he may be of your praise. What _did_ you want to speak with me about? You've got something on your mind. I can tell."

"Ah, yes. You always were able to cut to the chase, Captain."

"Please! Call me Kathryn. You used to, when I was a cadet."

"When you were a cadet, you had potential. That potential has been fulfilled to an astonishing degree. Not much surprises me anymore, Captain Kathryn Janeway, but what you pulled off, with the help of your outstanding first officer, was simply unprecedented."

"We did what we had to do to survive - and, to the best of our ability, to uphold the ideals of Starfleet and the Federation while doing it. We had to skirt the line more often than I'd have liked, and I made mistakes - some bad ones, I'm afraid. Fortune fell in our laps more times than I can count, and we needed a lot of luck to get back home."

"I heard you made your own good fortune sometimes, too, by upholding those ideals. Where no one had ever heard of the Federation, you did your best to uphold that tricky Prime Directive, too. That's difficult to do in the best of circumstances. Out there, all alone - not everyone would have even tried to do that."

Kathryn felt her eyes squint down into a fierce gaze, trying to pierce into the mind of the gardener. Had someone told him the true story of the _Equinox_? Ransom and Burke hadn't held to their training when they were under pressure, but then, that hadn't been her finest hour either, not by a long shot. If not for Chakotay, she may have gone even further over that line than she did. Was that what he'd spoken about with Chakotay? She found it hard to believe Chakotay would let anything about that slip out. Or did Boothby have intel even she was not privy to?

All she finally said was, "We did try to uphold the Prime Directive. Didn't always succeed, I must confess. But we always tried."

"And outdid Odysseus by bringing home most of your crew, and a bunch of others, too, like Chakotay's crew and some former Borg. _You_ didn't lose everyone but yourself out there. You're to be commended. I wanted to tell you that."

No mention of the _Equinox_. Well, that didn't mean he hadn't learned about it from someone, maybe one of the members of Ransom's or Burke's families. Her own duty in that regard was clear, however. She wasn't about to mention the name of "That Ship," as the five surviving crew members always called it. There was one thing she should say, however.

"Thank you, Boothby. That means a lot to me. I wish I could have brought _everyone_ home. I lost people. Too many. Their faces still haunt me."

Her voice trailed off. Talking about it brought images of many of them to mind, from one of the first, her helmsman, Lieutenant Veronica Stadi, to the last and, possibly, the most painful, Joe Carey. Losing him had brought her to one of her weakest moments, when she momentarily forgot the lessons learned about the value of exploration when they'd discovered the remains of Lieutenant John Kelly of the 21st century Mars expedition. She hadn't meant what she'd said to Chakotay, after they'd found Joe's unfinished starship model, when she'd questioned the value of losing even one person's life in service to exploration.

Was that what Boothby and Chakotay had spoken about? Although she now attributed her statement to a momentary fit of depression (not the only time she'd fallen victim to that disorder during the journey), it _was_ disconcerting to realize how many millions died on the planet on which Friendship One had landed, starting the cascade of events which culminated in a nuclear winter which had all but destroyed that world and its people. After a while she'd recalled that it was space exploration which led to _Voyager's_ coming to that planet eventually, allowing them to reverse the damage inadvertently caused by the people of Earth, who'd reached out to the galaxy so innocently when they'd sent out Friendship One as a gesture of hope.

And she always needed to remember that Lieutenant Carey had not died by any direct agency of _Voyager's_ crew, but through the evil intent of one man, whose sense of morality had been poisoned more thoroughly than his planet's atmosphere. Would Joe have been willing to sacrifice his life if he knew it meant so many others would have the chance for a better one? She would never know for sure. She suspected he might have. One thing she did know: his loss had been unnecessary. Too many others had been lost just as needlessly, but death had taken them anyway.

She shook her head, dispelling these bleak thoughts, attempting to chase away the images of those she would never forget, if only for the moment. She knew she would revisit them again tonight, now that Boothby had prodded her into remembrance.

When she realized just how long she'd remained in silent reflection, Kathryn turned to face him. She saw Boothby's kind, sympathetic eyes, seemingly commiserating with her pain. Was he telepathic to some degree? Was that why his advice always seemed so spot on? Or was he just that good at reading the expressions on the faces of others? Sighing deeply, she finally asked, "Was that what you wanted to tell me?"

"That, and a few other things. I've been wondering if you've decided what you're going to do for an encore. It will be hard to top what you did in the Delta Quadrant."

"I hope no other captain and crew get put into a position like that ever again!"

"No, I should hope not. But that begs the question: what _ARE_ you going to do now? I know I've heard talk of 'Admiral Janeway.' I assume the big brass will want to kick you upstairs, now that you've shown just about everyone up."

Did he put some extra emphasis on his words when he mentioned Admiral Janeway? Was there a double meaning in what he said? The admiral was supposed to be as deep a secret as the _Equinox_. Should she dare to answer his question with one of her own?'

"What have you heard?"

"Oh, it's common knowledge that when captains particularly distinguish themselves, the big brass want to pull them out of sight. Vice Admirals tend to be invisible to the general public, which suits a lot of the big shots who prefer to be the ones in the spotlight."

She gazed at him shrewdly. "Are you saying I'd be better off staying a captain? You're not insulting my father, Admiral Janeway, are you?"

"No, of course not. Don't take my comment so personally. Admiral Edward Janeway was a great man. I'd say you've even outshone him, but if he were still alive, no one would have been prouder of your accomplishments than your father. What I _AM_ suggesting is that you might follow Jean-Luc Picard's lead. Stick with captaining a starship for a while. Or maybe you might think about sorting out your personal life, now that you're back home again."

"Oh, Boothby, my personal life is my ship. And I don't really have one right now."

"They're still dragging their feet up at Space Dock, keeping you planet-bound, I take it."

"Worse. _Voyager_ is at Utopia Planitia while the propulsion gurus go over her with a fine-tooth comb. I guess I should be flattered that they're taking everything we discovered in the Delta Quadrant so seriously, especially the drives, and evaluating their potential for upgrading our fleet, but it's wearing. They're not telling me anything about what they plan to do with my ship, even though I ask them at least once a week. I'd hate for her to become a museum on the Presidio, like she was in . . ." Oops. Almost said too much.

"I gather that's one option."

Kathryn declined to reply.

"If they decide to do that to _Voyager_ , will you turn your back on exploration? Let their ploy succeed by accepting a promotion that will get you safely out of the way? You could try out a different way of life, you know. A real personal life, in a relationship with a person. An Intrepid class vessel will certainly become obsolete eventually, no matter how many upgrades it may get over the years."

"I'm not sure which of those options are viable. Thanks to my 'away mission' in the Delta Quadrant, I've had plenty of opportunities to explore. We brought home discoveries that will take scientists years to evaluate completely. I'm not sure the 'big brass,' as you call them, will risk sending me out again. They'd probably be afraid I'd I end up blundering into another unexplored far reach of the galaxy. But, I must admit, I'm not all that sure I'm cut out for life as an admiral. My father loved being in that position. I know he would have been overjoyed seeing me become one, but sitting behind a desk all day? That can get pretty deadly after a while. I do see your point about being kicked upstairs so I'm 'out of sight, out of mind.'"

"And the personal life?"

Such an innocent-sounding question, but it brought with it a pang of regret she did her best to extinguish. "I've had two fiancés, but I've never been able to take that next step to have a husband. One died, and the other thought I'd died, and he married someone else. I can't blame him, of course. I just don't think it's in the cards for me, Boothby."

"I don't know about that, Kathryn. Maybe you simply never became engaged to the right person."

"Well, if he's out there, I haven't met him yet."

"I'm not too sure about that."

"Oh, please. You're not going to say I should come between Chakotay and Seven, are you? They're happy together. Everyone says so. I won't interfere with what they have, just so _I_ won't be lonely anymore."

Boothby didn't respond right away. After an extended, pregnant pause, he finally said, "Why don't you have a talk with Chakotay, Kathryn. Surely you can _talk_ to him now, at least. You were a good team out there. Everyone says so."

She laughed at the way he'd thrown her own words back at her. "I'm sure we'll have a talk one of these days. He's a good friend, and there will be no lack of opportunities to chat, with all of these 'Welcome Home, _Voyager'_ events we're constantly being asked to attend."

"You do that, Kathryn. You might be surprised to hear what he has to say."

"I might. So, do you have any more words of wisdom to impart before I depart?"

"I think I've said all I should say for the time being. Remember this conversation, though. That's one piece of advice I hope you'll take from our meeting here today."

"I hope I always will remember today. You know, many times when I was out there, facing some seemingly unsolvable problem, I would recall something we casually discussed in a conversation which turned out to have extra resonance at that moment, helping me make a difficult decision. You've always had a gift for sharing little tidbits of advice that stick in the back of the mind, to bide there until one pops out at just the right time to help us through. I thank you for that. No matter what I finally decide about my own future, I can assure you, I treasure every single one of my meetings with you. I hope I'll always remember them."

"That's good to hear, Missy."

"I guess I should be going now, Boothby - unless you have some other pearl of wisdom to offer me you haven't shared yet?"

"No, I think I've covered everything - for now. Come back soon. Let me know what you finally do decide."

"You'll probably hear all about it, long before I get the chance to come back to tell you. I'm well aware of how the scuttlebutt network works, you know. We received 'Welcome back' messages from family and friends almost as soon as we arrived back in the Alpha Quadrant, before any official word had been released to the public!"

"So, come back to tell me before you tell anyone else. You know I'm not one to gossip. I stick to giving out advice - whether someone wants to hear it or not."

"I do know that. Oh, Boothby, it's so wonderful to see you again! Thank you for everything." She grabbed his callused hands and squeezed them, but the prickling sensation in her eyes told her that wasn't going to be enough. She reached around and gave him another hug, one that lasted a long time, long enough to show how much she'd missed all the hugs she'd been too far away to share with him for the past several years.

When she finally let him go, giving her eyes a quick wipe to brush away the tears, he picked up her hand. With a flourish, he removed a perfect, almost fully-opened red rose from his basket and placed it gently in her palm. "Take this, for old time's sake," he said, smiling at her. "Kathryn, be happy. You can be, you know. You just have to go out there and let yourself find someone who'll share it with you. I know someone who'd be happy to help you find what you're looking for. All you have to do is ask."

She accepted the gift with lifted brow, a shrug of the shoulders, and a very small smile before standing up to take her leave. "Until next time, then," she said, and turned away.

=/\=

Boothby watched her as she strolled down the path leading to the main Starfleet Academy campus. She was pretending to be totally at peace with her surroundings and herself. He knew better. That stiff, high set of her right shoulder, the too-casual way she swung her free arm as she paced down the walkway, while the steps themselves were jerky and uncertain, obvious tells that Kathryn Janeway had come to an impasse in her life. She'd come because she desperately wanted help deciding what she should do. She was not a very happy woman right now. Whether she'd take his advice about going to Chakotay, he couldn't say.

Over the past century or so, he'd had too much experience in facing a lonely, loveless existence, more than he would ever want to wish on anyone. No one knew that sort of pain better than Boothby, also known as Flint, and Methuselah, and a host of other mortals - the ordinary and the famous - personas he had taken on over the years to hide his pernicious immortality.

She was a stubborn woman, indomitable . . . and wonderful. If Chakotay dragged his feet for too long before letting her know how he felt, and that he was now free to act on his feelings, Boothby might become tempted to let her know who and what he really was. He wondered what she'd say to that. If he asked her to run away with _him_ , maybe back to the Delta Quadrant and that Species 8472 station (assuming they could find a way to get all the way back there), would she go? If she would, maybe he'd live long enough to enjoy one more fling with a remarkable woman.

He shook his head, amused by his flight of fancy. No, it was too late for him. He knew that.

But he did have another thing to say, even though she was quickly disappearing from view. Softly, he murmured to himself, "What fools these mortals be."

He hoped Kathryn and Chakotay would both take his advice.

To prove they weren't.

=/\=

End

=/\=

As always, the usual disclaimers apply: Paramount owns all of Star Trek, lock, stock, and photon torpedo barrel. Thanks must go to Ray Walston and Kate Mulgrew, for their indelible performances as, respectively, Boothby and Kathryn Janeway.


End file.
